It's been a year

We've been back a good year now. Back in the UK. The school year is starting again, and we've commented several times to each other, and to other people, how nice it is not to be newbies. The uniforms are sorted out, the relevant bits of paper read and signed, the calendar perused and any event in the next week or so noted, if I need to do something about it in advance. Otherwise, the kids will just roll up, and the next year will begin. It's a great feeling, to be established and not at sea. I've told my children to be specially nice to any new kids, and I know they will.

I'm happy to be here. We're in a good spot. We've made our house our home, found our way around a new city, made friends, had visitors to stay. My new job feels feels like another piece of the jigsaw is filled in. The picture has taken shape. I wouldn't change it, but as the year milestone is passed, I feel a little sad. It's beginning to feel like our time in America was a long time ago - another life, almost. I know other expats have said this, so I know I'm not alone. It's a strange feeling. I'm happy to be here, and when we were in America, we spent a huge amount of time, energy and emotion on trying to get here. But I left part of myself behind (quite literally, actually...).

I was shopping with 9-yo the other day, and I stopped and said "Do you remember when we used to go shopping at 'The Children's Place' together?" She nodded, and the expression on her face changed to sadness. We had a conversation about missing The Children's Place, and that made me feel better. It's part of her life too, and always will be. It took me such a long time to think of my children's sojourn in America as gain, rather than loss. I spent the first year or two thinking about all they were missing out on here. Now, for all that their current lives here are full and rich, I find myself thinking about what they are missing there.

Part of what I'm feeling is the oddness that I've made some very good new friends over the past year, but that they don't know about my having had cancer. It's not the first thing you talk about, and then as time goes by, it seems like it would be awkward to say "oh, and I don't think I've ever mentioned that I was treated for breast cancer four years ago". In a way, it doesn't matter. I am who I am in this moment, meeting people who are who they are in this moment. But in another way, it feels like it's almost become a big secret. I don't really want that. I realise that everyone, at my stage of life, will have events from their past that are significant, and that not all their friends know about. We all have things tucked away at the back of our kitchen cupboards, as it were. It's just that the cancer episode takes up a lot of cupboard space, and I don't like it being so hidden. Though I sort of do, too. I like how much it isn't part of everyday life as it used to be. There's no pleasing me at the moment! I suppose moving on involves gain and loss. You can't have one without the other.

Meanwhile, 9-yo and I are very much enjoying The Great British Bake Off. We look forward to Tuesday evening, and I love sharing that hour with her. Seems like a good trade-off for losing our trips to The Children's Place (though I did like that shop!)